


how dare you tempt me with a small bookstore!

by benwvatt



Series: each and every universe [7]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Bookstores, F/M, Pining, enemies to lovers BUT pen pals and secret best friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-10-13 19:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benwvatt/pseuds/benwvatt
Summary: Jake and Amy, nicknamed Johnny and Dora, become pen pals online and swiftly turn into best friends. The only problem? As bookstore owners, they're business rivals, but have no clue who the other person really is.Jake shakes his head. “I know she’s around my age and she lives in New York, too, but we just talk about friend stuff! She sent me a book about grammar and actually gave me edits on my Die Hard fanfiction.”“Your what?”





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! kudos are all appreciated! if you leave a comment, I'll reply with a sentence from the next chapter to show my gratitude :))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anything for you and your _soulmate._ Is it okay, you think, for him to propose to you over email?”
> 
> “Shut up! We’re just friends!”

Amy Santiago’s the kind of girl who always has her sleeves rolled up. Of course, she smiles a suitable amount for a bookstore owner, telling stories about the tooth fairy like they’re old friends. But she’s also the same woman who once slept in a tent in the building for a good week trying to keep Christmas bonuses intact. Amy believes in willpower, in elbow grease, in wishing upon stars before looking their names up on the NASA website. Amy has laugh lines, yes, but she has a few creases of worry, too.

That’s the description of her personality she sends to her online pen pal. Amy redacts her occupation, of course, since they don’t know each other’s jobs. On Gmail, in their perfect little bubble, work is a detail that doesn’t deserve to be shared. She’s just Dora, and he’s just Johnny. They met on some pen pal website, looking for online friends, and found their groove in that classic “I know your deepest childhood secrets but not your hair color” way.

 **What Amy’s learned about Johnny so far:** He likes cold pizza, cheers for the Mets, and adores Die Hard like no one she’s ever met. His father is annoying and unfaithful, which is why Johnny has three half-siblings. Johnny spends too much money on sneakers and not nearly enough on utilities. He once lived at IHOP for six days when he found a loophole in their all-you-can-eat special. He lives in New York, just like her, but they haven’t ever discussed meeting in person.

 **What Amy wants to learn about Johnny:** The sound of his voice, the swing of his step, the look on his face when someone he loves walks into the room. Not now, she knows, but someday.

* * *

**[Johnny, 3:15 AM:]**  
ever think about how nice it looks in the fall?? makes me want to build a pile of leaves and just crash into it, feeling fifteen again. fun new drinking game: take a shot every time I casually mention one of taylor’s songs in a sentence. fall is like… new beginnings. plaid scarves, if you can work those. do you think people actually go in changing rooms and try scarves on?? i feel like that’s something you’d do (in a nice, type-A kind of way, you know?)

can’t believe you sent me a word document of an online grammar book. it’s even harder to believe it’s a guide you wrote for yourself. you’re treading on awfully thin ice with the whole anonymity thing we have going on :)))

but, looking back, people at work _have_ been responding better to me once i read the whole thing. normally, it would’ve put me to sleep, but i like the pop culture references you stuck in there throughout. thanks for that.

i should honestly go to bed, so i hope you can wake up to this message? i always like waking up to yours, and i figure it works the other way around. goodnight or goodmorning, dora <3

* * *

“Morning, Tony,” Amy calls to her brother, walking to the refrigerator. Her eyes are still a little bleary, although she chose today to wear her favorite t-shirt, the Lilith Fair one. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay, I guess? I woke up when you got home, but I managed to fall back asleep. When’d you even get in, two in the morning? Out partying again?” He asks with a smirk, knowing that Amy’s had her head buried in a new Malcolm Gladwell book all week.

Outside, light seeps through the kitchen window and glints off the leaves of Amy’s orchid, half-wilted despite all the loving care she gives it (“I even kept a careful log of how much water it has per day!” “Not good enough, sis.”)

Amy laughs, waving off Tony’s comment. “Shush, you. I went out with Rosa after work to check out that huge store on Main Street, Skyline Books. They’re packed wall-to-wall! It’s really ruining business for that place around the corner, you know. It’s terrible.” She pours a cup of coffee to have with her croissant, frowning. “I admit it’s really nice there. It feels like a huge, cozy Starbucks. I don’t know what I’d do if Skyline came near our store.”

“You said it. Santiago’s is special.” Tony retorts, grabbing his coat. “Ready to go? I’ll drive, you can eat on the way.”

“Thanks!” Amy calls, reaching for a napkin and grabbing a banana from the counter. “Perfect timing. I have another message from Johnny.”

“Anything for you and your _soulmate,”_ Tony remarks, grabbing his keys and heading out the door. “Is it okay, you think, for him to propose to you over email?”

“Shut up! We’re just friends!” Amy says halfway down the stairs, her purse swinging as she races down the steps to keep up.

Nevertheless, Amy thinks about Johnny all the way to work, clutching her phone in her hands. Tony asks if he can bring a guest to their wedding, to which Amy rolls her eyes. “Johnny’s not even his real name!”

“Well, I’ll see his real one on the invitation, won’t I?”

If Tony weren’t driving, she’d slap him. Amy opens her email, shutting out her brother’s voice, and the planet seems to spin a little more smoothly as she reads.

* * *

Jake Peralta isn’t very good with people, but that’s okay. He clicks with Dora, he knows, and that’s what matters. There are dozens of their messages littered throughout his inbox, interspersed with Bath & Body Works advertisements and Amazon digital receipts (What? He’s into retail therapy. It’s effective, albeit costly.)

Dora color-codes her highlighters. She thinks getting your eyebrows threaded is painful but worth it. She has a keen eye for shopping at garage sales. She’s funny in that understated, behind-your-back, shy way. And, as Jake learned yesterday, she can recite a staggering amount of Harry Potter quotes, although she refuses to learn any from Snape.

“Dora this, Dora that. What if she’s one of those catfishers?” Gina demands, still suspicious after Jake told her about his pen pal last week. So here he is, arguing with her in conference room C when he could be talking to Dora instead.

“I have no idea what she looks like! This isn’t a romantic thing, anyways.” He shakes his head. “I know she’s around my age and she lives in New York, too, but we just talk about friend stuff! She sent me a book about grammar and actually gave me edits on my Die Hard fanfiction.”

“Your what?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Jake snaps.

Gina turns around and puts her hands on his shoulders. “Listen, this could just be an elaborate ruse, and she’s some sixty-year-old creep making up information from halfway around the globe. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Jake sighs. “I trust her! She told me about how her childhood pen pal Mongkut played a scam like that, and she wouldn’t pull that same thing with me. Plus, it’s not like she knows my address or social security. We just exchanged emails. I don’t even know her phone number.”

The clock rings at nine, signaling the beginning of another prim-and-proper day. Jake points at it from behind his head, hinting that Gina’s taunts should soon cease.

“Listen, all I’m saying is that you tend to wear your heart on your sleeve.” Gina glances at her friend knowingly before crossing her arms over her new red blazer. “One minute you’re exchanging stories, the next you have your own personal Mongkut. Then _I_ have to hear about how you got fooled again. Be careful, okay?”

Through the window, out of the corner of her eye, Gina spots Jake’s dad walking through the building. There’s yet another acquisition report pressed to his chest, the paper as crisp as the collar on his shirt.

“Fine,” Jake musters, glancing at his watch. “Thanks for looking out for me, Gina, but I better get to my office. My dad will _kill_ me if we don’t get the building inspector to the Main Street location, since that means we might not open the new bookstore on time.”

Walking down the hall, Jake tries to convince himself that Dora’s real and that this isn’t just some sick prank. Come to think of it, she _was_ rather insistent about the whole anonymity thing, right? So he slows his breathing once he arrives, sitting down in the leather chair that used to belong to his grandfather. Jake rereads their conversations, wishing they were letters so he could touch the ink and read her handwriting. He scrolls through all the pictures she’s sent him, of three-leaf clovers and Gryffindor shirts and fireworks, and Dora materializes as his best friend again. 

Johnny and Dora. As real as it gets.

* * *

**[Dora, 12:17 PM:]**  
Last night I had a dream about Taylor Swift, and, when I woke up this morning, I already had one of her songs stuck in my head. You’ve turned me into a human jukebox, and I hope you know this is all your fault. It wasn’t even one of the singles, Johnny. It was Dancing with Our Hands Tied. And, yes, I completely agree with you, that song definitely belonged on the Titanic soundtrack. (Plus, I have to reiterate, that door was 100% large enough for both of them. I’m still mad about that.)

When do you usually get up in the mornings? I’m technically a morning person, but I never appreciate being awake until I’m fully conscious and I’ve had the largest cup of coffee I can. It’s so hard, leaving that cocoon of blankets and trudging to the bathroom. Also, how do you take your coffee? Just curious. I’m a two sugars with milk kind of girl, in case we ever meet. Who knows, maybe I’ve seen you walking around New York before. It’s a surreal thing, wondering.

Today’s been pretty good so far, partly because I woke up to your message. (Go to sleep earlier! Get some rest, you wannabe insomniac! You deserve it!) Nothing really changes where I work, which is comforting in and of itself, but it sometimes makes life a little dull. I’ve had the same job practically my entire life. It’s my family’s business. (Is that too personal? Who knows.)

Anyways, whenever you get this, I hope you’re having a good day at work, too. I don’t know, maybe it’s your lunch break and you see this. Talk to you soon!

p.s. You should probably give me more fashion advice. Two of my friends have already asked me where I bought this flannel shirt. And who knew you could find such nice sneakers on the dark web?

* * *

**Things Dora doesn’t know about Johnny:** He drives a Lexus. His dad taught him how to balance a checkbook when he was younger. He doesn’t read for pleasure as much as for business (which is to say, he scans through structural reports and he can feel his brain cells hurting.) Oh, and Skyline Books oversees every move he makes, including a harsh decision to open a new store right down the street from Santiago’s.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[Johnny, 7:55 AM:]**  
>  Hey, in your honest opinion, am I hard to love?
> 
>  **[Johnny, 7:56 AM:]**  
>  NOT LIKE THIS IS ABOUT US DATING OR ANYTHING!!!! SRRY
> 
> Jake and Amy get closer, they both have some realizations about relationships, and Amy runs into a major problem - Skyline Books, Jake's business, is building a new store across the street from Santiago's.

**[Dora, 12:25 PM:]**  
It’s not fair that my brother has nicer eyelashes than me :(

 **[Johnny, 12:27 PM:]**  
oh dora you gentle beautiful dove,, how many times do i have to tell you im sure your eyelashes are fine

 **[Dora, 12:30 PM:]**  
Men have eyelash privilege, and I’m not going to shut up about this until it’s resolved. Also, you think I’m a dove?

 **[Johnny, 12:36 PM:]**  
why cant you call ur pen pal a beautiful dove?? some people are so RESTRICTIVE and RUDE

 **[Dora, 12:38 PM:]**  
If it makes you feel better, I’m sure you’re … a soft, kind starfish who, um, roams the streets of New York with wonderful lashes

 **[Johnny, 12:41 PM:]**  
we’re officially going into business and making a movie about that exact scenario

 **[Dora, 12:44 PM:]**  
Love you too <3

* * *

It’s a long, cold night when Teddy Wells walks Amy Santiago home. This is their second date, and she’s starting to see why Tony can’t stand to be around him. Teddy is endlessly fascinated by his corner of the world, seldom daring to peek outside and see what else is happening. Amy knows for a fact he’s had the same cell phone for five years, and his favorite app _on_ said phone is contacts.

It’s not like Amy’s some daredevil 一 she’s spent many an afternoon working on a crossword or staring at a sudoku until it’s burnt into her brain 一 but she needs _some_ semblance of danger. Something to make a spark. Something to ignite the ambition in her eyes.

So Teddy walks her up to the door, tries in vain to kiss her goodnight. Amy’d pecked him on the cheek on their first date, back when their stale conversations seemed more refreshing. He remembers it fondly, she can tell. Amy pulls out all the stops, slips in a mumble of ‘my brother’s waiting for me’, and chastely pats Teddy on the shoulder before she bolts.

There’s a chill down her back as she climbs the stairs. Her boots are untied, laces flying every which way. It’s just a stroke of luck that she doesn’t fall.

Two dates. Two nights she’ll never get back. Two dinners, the second more insufferable than the first, wasted. If he were here, Amy would say that Teddy has good table manners. He tipped the waiter generously, and that story about his furniture store’s wood shipment was actually pretty funny.

But, in the privacy of her own thoughts, no longer subjected to puns about pilsners, Amy would say she spent the night thinking about someone else. Her mind meandered as far away as possible. She daydreamed conversations about plaid scarves in changing rooms, about hearing songs in your sleep. She drifted somewhere away from her date, past the restaurant and the table manners. She thought about people with whom a single question could start a story.

_Would you ever get a tattoo, and do you have any right now? What’s the farthest place you’ve ever traveled? When you’re at a gift shop, are you ever afraid to touch the merchandise in case you break something?_

Through the echoes of silence and her lackluster night, Amy thought about Johnny. She drinks a glass of red wine and dreams a little about him once more, never letting go.

* * *

~~[DELETED DRAFT 1/2]  
 **[Dora, 11:50 PM:]**  
Are you awake? I had a bad date tonight. We went out last week, but it didn’t quite seem so awkward then. I kind of wished you were there instead, and you could’ve told me that story about your bar mitzvah (the one you swore you’d take to your grave, but I didn’t believe you.) It would’ve been nice, having my best friend there.~~

~~[DELETED DRAFT 2/2]  
 **[Dora, 11:57 AM:]**  
I had a second date tonight, but over my dead body are we having a third. So please, PLEASE, talk to me about your family recipes, or your favorite song, or the animal you’d bring back from the ice age if you had to pick just one. Distract me, enchant me, do whatever, just talk to me. I missed you while I was out tonight. Does that sound silly?~~

[SENT MESSAGE]  
 **[Dora, 11:57 AM:]**  
Tonight was weird. I had a second date with this guy, and I knew we had a lot in common, but he was _mind-numbing,_ Johnny. He wouldn’t stop talking about pilsners and jazz brunches. I was going out of my mind. And it sucks, too, I was so wishing we’d click together. It’s hard to find people like that.

So, long story short, I just daydreamed and stared into space. Now I have a lot of thoughts about a hypothetical rom-com where a girl falls in love with her UberEats delivery guy. (Wouldn’t that be SO good?? Cheesy, of course, but good.) Sadly, I also have a pilsner fanatic to break it off with. Wish me luck <3

* * *

It’s 3 AM and Johnny jolts awake, his mind not quite sure what it just dreamt. There was sunlight, he remembers, flooding the atmosphere, floating into his room. And laughter? Echoes of soprano ring in his mind briefly, but soon become a blur amidst the dark.

He gets up for a glass of water, trying to put everything at ease. The night is soft and sullen, and his joints ache. Is he too young for this? Can he forecast the rain from the tremor in his bones? Is he going to suddenly feel the urge to buy a rocking chair and place it on his porch? Should be move somewhere that _has_ a porch?

The refrigerator, ice maker rumbling, shakes Jake out of his thoughts. This is his kitchen, tile cold against his feet. There’s a hundred-dollar tie haphazardly thrown onto the table. This is home, desolate at such an early hour. Memories of game nights and fireplace chats seem so much further away, though they’re always just a phone call away.

In this half-lit moment, the city almost certainly asleep and his back against the counter, Jake can’t think of anyone but his best friend. He reads Dora’s most recent email, his mind quiet for her and her alone. She’s difficult to forget, Jake’s mentioned, but she lingers in his thoughts longer than he thought possible. Did she feel lucky to meet him at first? Was she enamored, endeared? He’ll spend forever wondering if she knew.

There’s a small part of him that’s glad that Dora disliked her date. He doesn’t write back to her, because all he’d want to do is ask her if they should meet. Jake has no idea if those two thoughts are a Venn diagram, if they’re correlated by some mysterious silk thread.

So he goes back to sleep, returning to his dreams. The sunlight still wafts through Jake’s drapes and into his bedroom, and the laughter begins to ring again.

* * *

 **[Johnny, 7:55 AM:]**  
Hey, in your honest opinion, am I hard to love?

 **[Johnny, 7:56 AM:]**  
NOT LIKE THIS IS ABOUT US DATING OR ANYTHING!!!! SRRY

 **[Johnny, 8:02 AM:]**  
just,,, am i worth your time? do i make life calmer?? is my presence better or worse than my absence???? sorry for dropping all these questions on you. im just feeling weird. remember i said i had too much love and not enough ways to show it?

* * *

In the morning, feeling like he’s got a placebo hangover, Jake realizes it’s been a while since he’s been on a date. On the surface, he’s a dream. Penthouse? Check. Heir to a large and successful bookstore chain? Check. Killer sense of humor? Love of action movies? Dimples? Check, check, and check.

Underneath, is he so likable? That’s what hurts him.

It feels like something’s not quite right. Jake’s had his fair share of relationships, has traced his fingertips along his exes’ backs and lent them his flannels in the morning (and that’s _commitment,_ those are hand-picked by his personal shopper.) He’s been through enough blind dates and “what a coincidence! Jake, this is my friend!” run-ins to know how it is. The chemistry’s never quite correct.

(Literally. His last boyfriend, Sam, actually made up a metaphor about catalysts and activation energy to explain their breakup. Didn’t make things any easier. Jake kept mixing up the entropy and enthalpy, and Sam was yelling, and then - and then he’d just slammed the door.)

Jake’s not a relationship person. That’s code for “hopeless romantic not suited for easy heartbreak and get-love-quick schemes.” It’s what Jake uses as an excuse to his friends, and he reassures himself with that notion when nights feel darker than they’ve been before.

He doesn’t know why he bothers with trying to date at this point, not after his parents’ divorce, not when after seeing so-called dream relationships smoldering to ash. Jake goes for flings, collecting breadcrumbs. He has a casual thing going with Jenny, one of the lawyers at Skyline Books, and they’ve known each other since they were kids. She’s picture-perfect, people at the office say. The whole package.

But Jenny has sharp, press-on nails that grate against the table; Jenny hangs off Jake’s arm on company parties without ever letting him join the conversation; _Jenny_ thinks he’s less intelligent or less charming for losing all the arguments. She’s the kind of person who yells at assistants that bring her decaf lattes. Jenny points out employees who are allegedly“affirmative action hires”, and doesn’t tell girls they have lipstick on their teeth until the end of the day.

So Jake brews a cup of coffee. He ignores the black t-shirt that Jenny left at his apartment two months ago. And he definitely, definitely tries to forget the age-old irony that what he wants isn’t what he gets; that the people he loves won’t love him back, yet the one girl who’s interested in him is the human equivalent of a broken trash compactor.

Jake watches _Parks and Rec_ for an hour, foraging for some sparse inkling of hope. Maybe there’s someone out there looking for him, and all he has to do is wander around and find them. He’s not replaceable, he’s not worthless. Maybe someone’s wishing that he’d just show up, and, in time, he will.

* * *

 **[Dora, 8:25 AM:]**  
love is a resource and you will capitalize on your investment one day!! you can get, like, 3% interest, compounded monthly

 **[Dora, 8:27 AM:]**  
was that clever? did it come off as weird?? you said you were a businessman, i was trying to fit in with your corporate world

 **[Dora, 8:30 AM:]**  
anyways, you are by no means hard to love. people are people and sometimes we change our minds (see, i’m even using taylor lyrics!), but being snubbed in the past doesn’t reflect poorly on who you are. it just means those relationships didn’t fit. that’s what i tell myself, anyways.

I know it’s hard. We ought to hold a support group or something, like in new girl. IM SINGLE AND IM SUFFICIENT!!! sorry im making this all about me. love youuuuuuuuu

* * *

For some reason, Jake smiles softly at the mention of Dora’s romantic life. Heartbreak is their national anthem, and they’re singing it proudly.

* * *

 **[Johnny, 9:01 AM:]**  
I’ll take you up on that singles support group. We can serve pepper-alone-i pizza or something. And single pringles!!!

 **[Johnny, 9:02 AM:]**  
Completely take that back - pringles come with other chips, they’re not alone. Serving those would drive members away at our meetings.

 **[Dora, 9:03 AM:]**  
Wouldn’t want that :)

* * *

On Amy’s drive to work the following Monday, the first thing she sees on her way to Santiago’s is a large, blue banner flapping in the wind.

“Skyline Books - Coming soon to a store near you!” it reads, even decorated with the little pilot mascot. She and Tony roll their eyes, but she notices Tony pumps the gas with a scoff.

“They’re not gonna dominate the market,” Amy soothes, unsure if she’s telling the truth. “Like in the flower district, they always manage to divide up responsibilities, right? We’ll take some of the customers, they’ll take the others.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause big businesses always go easy on mom-and-pop stores.” He pulls the car into the parking lot with a screech of the wheels and a stiff turn of the steering wheel.

“Look, they’re not even open yet. They’ve barely begun construction!”

“Once a business like Skyline opens, it never closes,” Tony spits, looking out the window and into the empty shopping center.

“Don’t be so negative!” Amy chastises, slinging her purse across her body and moving to unbuckle her seatbelt. She tries to think about good things, gritting her teeth and trying to maintain her cheerful facade.

(Swans. Tiramisu. That nice couple in the park with the triplets. Is it working?)

“We’re definitely losing the business, sis,” her brother’s voice juts in, interrupting the chain of thoughts.

(Nope, definitely not a successful attempt to bend the truth.)

“Tony-”

“I’m calling David and asking him to come down from Maine.” He slams the car door with a huff, the keys to the bookstore clutched in his fist.

_“Tony!”_

* * *

**[Dora, 8:46 AM:]**  
Hey, sorry if this is too intrusive or anything, but I kind of have a work-related problem, and I think you might’ve mentioned working in a business setting too. A lot of people at work are already worried about going under and not earning enough revenue, that kind of stuff. Long story short, I could really use your help and advice navigating this difficult situation. Thank you so much! 

**[Johnny, 8:50 AM:]**  
Hey, no problem! Yikes, that sounds like a really tough thing to go through. Anything you need, I’d be glad to help! Wouldn’t want to be on the other side of your business problem. That’d mean going up against you, and I’m sure you’re amazing at doing whatever you do at work. Love you!

<3 Johnny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! comments are the best thing ever, please let me know what you thought of this chapter if you'd like :)


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